Ah childhood. Seems like only thirty (or so) years ago when my biggest worry was the precarious hierarchal politics of the schoolyard where kids who carried briefcases to school were sadistically beaten with sticks.
Yes, those were the good old days, when the worst thing that could happen was to return to the bike rack to find your vehicle missing, stolen no doubt by some kid who wanted your forks or your tires or your handlebars.
Grudgingly you would wake up every day, walk to the bus with what felt like five hundred pounds of textbooks strapped to your back as if you were some sort of pack mule or a slave; forced to listen, expected to learn and to regurgitate things like 9 times tables and the anatomy of a grasshopper and the Beatitudes.
Your obsessions were sports (even if you used to score on yourself), girls who hated you (because they didn’t understand that tearing their hair meant you liked them) and of course, video games.